Clara
by Salomedancing
Summary: Elisabeth Kostova The Historian A young librarian is unfortunate enough to attract the attention of Dracula.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Thanks to lj user"initialaitch" for beta._

_This story is based on Dracula as he appears in Kostova's i The Historian /i . I feel, though, that this is closer to an original story, rather than a fanfic. Or perhaps a fanfic about the character Dracula? This story does not need you to have read i The Historian /i to enjoy it, I think it would be enough to have knowledge about the myth of Dracula. However, it is i The Historian /i that inspires me to write about Dracula- I really like how she entwines the historical person with the myth. And I love that Kostova's Dracula has a penchant for librarians._

Clara enjoyed working in the library, and she especially liked working in the evenings. When the daylight didn't stream in from the large windows, the library turned into something more than just mere shelves filled with books. In her imagination it turned into a forest where the large shelves were trees, all filled with the fruits of knowledge. No matter how many lamps were lit at dusk, the rooms never got really light, not like in the days, and that made the feeling of something magical even stronger.

She sat behind her reference desk, its lamp a beacon where the visitors went for help and advice. Other small lights were lit at the tables strewn around the library, heads of all shapes and colours were dipped over books and papers. The sight made her smile. They were all here for a mutual goal, and she was there to help them achieve it. People who came in the evenings were different from those who came in the day. In the evenings the lonely people came. Those who had no family who wanted them home for dinner, nor friends eager for their company. The library was their friend instead, and Clara recognised them all, greeting them by name when they sought her out her out.

One evening she realized with a start that a new person had entered her kingdom. Not because he was a stranger. Strangers came, some just once, some to become known. They all started off wandering around the shelves, not really knowing what they wanted, or where to find it. They soon gravitated toward Clara for help, or they disappeared. But this man, when she first saw him, was sitting at a table, working over some thick volumes - working with an air of being there forever, though Clara was sure she had never seen him before. And he wasn't the kind of person one forgot either. A dark man, with strong features that ought to be handsome, though Clara found she didn't really think he was. A foreigner, surely- but that was not uncommon in the library where students and researchers from many countries visited. Perhaps because she noted him in such different circumstances than usual, Clara found him a bit disquieting, a feeling that she did her best to shake off, not quite succeeding.

After the first night she noticed him, she found that he was always there when she worked her evenings - reading, writing, only occasionally picking up a new volume. She never saw him speak to, or even look at, any of the other visitors, and he had never approached her desk, not until she had almost gotten used to seeing him in the farthest off corner of her domain.

So she was really startled when he suddenly appeared in front of her. In a low, polite voice he asked some questions of reference. Though he spoke very correctly, there was also an unmistakably foreign accent to his words. The question he asked was a difficult one; Clara frowned over the paper he had given her and then asked him to be seated again, as it might take her some time to finish the task. He answered with a slight bow, and she set to work. Reference questions seldom daunted her for long, but this one was complicated and she had to do quite the detective work to solve it. It was challenging, but it was also fun, and when she, almost an hour later, walked up to the man with the answer she was smiling. but when the man looked up at her, her smile died. He had such a serious face, and not a very friendly one either.

"Thank you" he said, the question mark in his voice very clear and Clara found herself answering.

"My name is Clara." Why she didn't answer with her last name as she usually did, she couldn't tell. The man looked at her searchingly.

"Clara- the glorious one. A beautiful name."

She waited a second, expecting him to introduce himself, but he just returned to his books, without sparing her another glance.

After that he came several times with requests, and Clara found that though they always were hard - and they seemed to grow harder with time, they were always interesting, almost exciting. What subject he really studied eluded her, though. The subjects varied, even if he seemed to have a preference for history, and she wondered many times what he was writing about so methodically. Somehow she never dared to take a peek at it, or even to ask him. She never really grew at ease with him either. She still didn't know his name, though he always called her by her name when he spoke to her. The way he pronounced her name made it sound wholly unfamiliar in her ears, like it wasn't hers at all. And though he was unwaveringly polite to her, she couldn't say that his presence made her feel comfortable at all. Indeed, as time passed, the feeling of discomfort when he was around grew instead of diminishing.

One evening Clara was putting back some books on a high shelf, balancing rather unsteadily on a ladder. She had never liked heights, and when she heard someone speaking close to her, she almost thought that she had been thinking out aloud.

"You have to be careful, Clara, you may fall."

She felt it only for a second, though , and then she realised that someone was standing by the ladder. That nearly did make her slip, and she turned her head sharply toward the sound of his voice. With a slight shock she found herself staring directly into his eyes. She was standing a few steps up on the ladder, and for once their height was equal - before, one of them had always been sitting - and the first impression she got now was that he must be immensely tall.

"You might fall and hurt yourself."

Clara was about to protest, saying that she had never fallen, but before she could speak he moved closer and slipped his arm around her waist. That was so unexpected that she never had time to get scared. For the first time she noticed that his eyes were a brilliant green- she had somehow always thought that they were black. She couldn't stop staring into his eyes, and then felt relief when he bowed his head against her neck so she didn't have to anymore. She felt cold and dizzy, there was an unpleasant smell around her that almost made her feel sick, and then the dizziness overcame her and she could feel herself fall before all sensations were gone..

When Clara opened her eyes again she stared up into concerned faces, all worried and familiar. With some help she sat up, gingerly feeling her head. It ached, but not quite as if she had hit it, which she must have done, falling off the ladder like that. She had also ripped her neck on a sharp corner, leaving a small, but rather nasty wound at her throat. She was helped up, someone fetched her a cup of tea and after some rest Clara felt much better, though oddly lightheaded, and quite tired. In the end she was sent home, the other librarian assuring her that he could cope alone for the last hour. Clara fended off a number of anxious offers to escort her home, walking alone in the autumn evening. The cool air felt like a relief, the headache the fall had given her eased away a little. At home she mostly felt silly for scaring everybody so, and for being such a silly girl and slipping when she had indeed been warned.

Been warned by whom? Clara frowned, but the memory eluded her. The next morning the headache was still there, but much better, and the following weeks she was somewhat tired, but that too passed. The wound on her neck didn't want to heal, though, it remained open and sore. She considered seeing a doctor about it, but decided she was being overly-cautious. It didn't get worse, so most likely it had just gotten a little infected- the ladder had hardly been very clean.

Only after she had worked a couple of evenings did she realise that the dark man in the corner table had stopped coming. Clara wondered a little about it, but she had to confess to herself that it made her feel quite relieved that his quiet presence was gone, even if the usual questions seemed quite dull after the exiting references the stranger had provided her with.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The autumn seemed unusually dreary to Clara. It rained a lot, and the days were dark for all the clouds hanging low. Slowly she also started to feel like she was being watched. Often she would get the uncomfortable feeling of being scrutinized, but when she looked over her shoulder, there was no one around. It made her feel nervous, and she started to sleep badly. Fred, her fiance, noticed and when they were having a dinner one evening he remarked upon it.

"You work too much- you are too pale." Clara gave an inward sigh. This, she knew, was not just concern, but the start to an argument that was making her feel increasingly exasperated. "I'm glad that we will get married soon, then you can stop working at that boring library and get some rest."

"But I love my work- you know that. We've talked about this before. I don't want to quit just because we get married."

"Clara, be sensible- it's ridiculous that you should keep on working. I can support us both with ease, you know that. Besides, people will think that I don't earn enough to keep my wife comfortable."

"Please Fred, people won't think that at all. And I would go mad being all alone at home every day."

Fred looked mulish, but then he shrugged. "Very well, I guess you could keep on working until we have children."

Clara didn't answer. She loved Fred, but he just couldn't understand how she felt about the library. And children… Of course she wanted them- one day. Not just after the wedding as Fred seemed to want.

They didn't talk more about it, instead the discussion drifted along to other topics, and Clara didn't think about it until Fred had followed her to the door and kissed her. His caresses had grown more and more persistent the closer they got to the wedding, even if they had both agreed on waiting until their wedding night. But tonight Fred suddenly asked;

"Let's go inside, together, darling. You're so beautiful, and it would be so soon anyway. It wouldn't matter."

The earlier discussion sprang suddenly very vividly back into Clara's mind, and it was with some satisfaction she answered.

"Now Fred, you can't have it all. If you want to be old fashioned when it comes to my working, then you have to be consistent when it comes to this too."

Afterward she felt guilty, and a bit stupid. She wanted this as much as Fred, she was sure of that, but she had felt a childish need to get back at him. She decided that she would make a serious effort to speak with him again. Clara sighed; she could feel a headache creeping up behind her eyes. If she could only make Fred understand, then everything would be wonderful. And if she didn't, well, that was the cause of the headache, wasn't it?

When Clara had found her apartment she had been very happy with getting a location that allowed her to walk to and from the library. A mere fifteen minutes, which only if it rained heavily felt like a task. However, a few of those minutes she had to walk through a small park, the path shielded from the surrounding houses by large trees. It had never bothered her, but now Clara started to feel uncomfortable when she walked home in the evenings. Especially in the park- but not to walk there would make her way home much longer, and she didn't want to increase the time she was out alone at night.

Despite the uneasy feeling of being under supervision, Clara had never actually seen or heard anything that indicated that she was being followed. Indeed, she had almost managed to convince herself that she was being very irrational and foolish for having those feelings. So the evening when she became aware of footsteps behind her, she first told herself that it was nothing to worry about. But after a while she couldn't help but feel that the steps followed her much more precisely than they ought to, and when she went into the park and still heard them, she begun to feel afraid. Clara walked faster, and when she did she could clearly hear footsteps that changed their speed as well. She didn't dare to look back, or to run either. It wasn't so far, in a few minutes she would emerge on a well-lit street.

But she never got that far. Suddenly she was grabbed and swung around. Before she had time to react she was hit in the face, and in the sudden pain she lost her footing and fell heavily, only managing to keep her nose from crashing into the ground with the palm of her hand. She could feel the skin on her palm breaking, then she was turned around, and for the first time she could see her attacker, and the scream that was building up inside her never evolved into sound.

It was not anyone she knew. She had been so sure that she would know him that the sight of this stranger silenced her. This was a man she would never have looked at twice, ordinary in all aspects apart from the rage in his eyes. Hands closed around her neck as he whispered into her ear;

"One sound and that will be the last thing you do. Understand?"

Pain and shock made the world spin for Clara; distantly she could feel her skirt being pushed up and her underwear torn away, she could feel cold air against her bare skin, and then a sharp pain between her legs. She did understand what was happening to her, but not until that pain did she regain some control over herself. Though everything must have happened very quickly, she still felt that it took an eternity for her to decide to fight back, until she started to move her arms to try to fend him off.

She never got that far. Suddenly the man's head turned sharply to the left, and she heard a nasty crack, before he was literally torn away from her and thrown to the ground a fair distance from where she lay.

Clara felt no relief from this sudden help, because when she stared up at her saviour she could only feel a terror, that by far surpassed what she had felt before. This was the man she had expected to see, the man she had been sure had watched her. Now he looked down on her impassively, as if he had not just broken a man's neck as easily a chicken's. She'd never noticed before that he wore his hair long, she had never seen it hang freely around his face like this. Black curls that framed his pale face and made him look very alien.

"Don't, don't," was all she could manage to say.

"I won't," he answered, but it served no purpose to calm her. Somehow she was sure that what he actually intended to do would be something infinitely worse than rape, and she started to haul herself back in a hopeless attempt to distance herself from him. He smoothly knelt beside her, motioning at her to stop, and Clara found that she was unable to move. She could only stare at him, as he stretched out his hand and touched her. His fingers were stained by her blood, and the ghost of a smile flittered over his face.

"There is no one else to harm you now, Clara. No one else."

The fear never left her, but despite that she could feel a strange lethargy come over her. She sank back, staring up at the night sky, and her body grew heavy and cold. A strange pleasure crept up in her body, utterly failing either to warm her or calm her. In a sense it was like drifting into sleep, and Clara closed her eyes. For a moment she thought she could feel pain again, another deeper and altogether more excruciating feeling, but then she knew nothing more.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Long time no chapters. As always there is the matter of time to write it down- the story has been finished in my mind for a long time. I have been asked when this story takes place, which I admit isn't very clear. In my mind it's the late 50's. I found it a bit funny when I very recently started to watch _Mad Men_ and found that Joanie's relationship with her fiancé Fred to be quite close to Clara's to her Fred. Even more so as Joanie (Christina Hendricks) actually comes quite close to how I visualize Clara- only Clara's hair is dark. So, here it is the next to last chapter, I hope you will enjoy it!**

Clara woke up in her own bed, though it took her a little while to work out where she was. Her body felt sore and she had a horrible headache that made her unwilling to move or even open her eyes. For a long time she lay very still, trying to remember what had happened last night, but she was also very thirsty, terribly thirsty and in the end she had to get up, driven by the need to drink. She found that she was still fully dressed, though her underpants were gone and her stockings were in tatters. That sparked a memory. She had been attacked, yes, she could remember that, but only in glimpses and she could not remember how she had got home in the end. She stumbled out into the kitchen and drank glass after glass of water, but barely quenching her thirst.

When she couldn't stand drinking more she went into the bathroom. She badly needed to shower, to remove whatever traces her attacker had left on her. For a long time she stood under the hot water, scrubbing every inch of her body. When she reached her neck, Clara suddenly felt a sharp pain at the point where her small wound was. She gingerly felt at it with a fingertip and found it larger than it had been. Worried she stepped out of the shower to look into a mirror. Her reflection gave her a small shock. She was deadly pale, even her lips seemed colourless and she looked drawn and tired with dark shadows under her eyes. And the wound at her throat had indeed opened up, though still there was no trace of blood. The skin seemed a bit swollen and when Clara looked closer she could clearly see that it wasn't one wound, it was two. Not a tear as she had though, but two puncture marks, set a little apart from each other.

Clara stared at them. They seemed familiar and she suddenly realized that she had seen something just like it very recently. She and Fred had gone to see the latest Dracula movie. It hadn't really frightened her, but she very secretly found Christopher Lee rather handsome and had enjoyed it. The victims in the movie had had wounds like that, only those on her own throat looked more real. More real because they _were_ real. Clara gripped the edges of the basin and fought back wave nausea. She suddenly remembered what else had happened the day before. The man, that man from the library, he had been there last night too. He had killed her attacker and then, and then...

It couldn't be true of course. Vampires weren't real, they were creatures you found in books and movies, and not where you worked. Not in your everyday life, but he had been so very strange and somehow it didn't feel as unnatural as it ought to, to believe he was a real monster. Clara stood a little while longer, trying to collect her thoughts. She must be in shock that was why she had such crazy notions, but the idea didn't feel crazy at all. Clara shook her head. It was a crazy thought yes, but if she tried to look at it calmly, then the fact remained that this strange man had done something that she couldn't quite recall and he must also have been the one who had taken her home.

That thought both chilled and sobered her. If she just looked at the bare facts, then this man must have been following her, which was alarming enough, and he had also killed a man with a terribly ease. He couldn't be a vampire, but he was still a dangerous man and perhaps he meant to come back. Clara at once felt sure that he would come back and she must get away.

Clara went into her bedroom and got dressed as she continued to think of what she could do. It was Saturday and Fred was away on a fishing trip. She had looked forward to a weekend on her own and hadn't made any plans with anyone, so no one would miss her until Monday. She could catch a train and go- to her parents? No, not her parents, he might very well follow her to them. But she had cousins, several of them. She would visit one of them, they would be surprised if she came without notice, but they would welcome her. Then she would have time to think a bit more to decide how to go on. Or perhaps she ought to check herself into a mental hospital? Clara laughed, but it sounded so brittle and desperate that she abruptly stopped. Well, they would certainly admit her if she turned up and said she needed help because she was stalked by a vampire.

The thought truly was ludicrous, but Clara couldn't get rid of a small nagging voice telling her that insane or not, it was the truth and though it felt silly, she went through her jewelry box. There, at the bottom, she found a tiny box, a gift from an aunt many years ago. It contained a small silver cross on a dainty chain and Clara had just looked at it back then, thanked her aunt and forgotten all about it. Now she fumbled with the clasp and somehow, felt better when it was locked around her neck.

When it was done, all energy left her and Clara felt very tired. She looked at her watch and found that it was barely noon. Plenty of time then to pack a bag and take a cab to the train station before night fell. Even if he strange ideas were a hysteric reaction she still felt very strongly that she needed to leave by daylight. Still, she could rest a little while. Just rest, she wasn't to fall asleep, but she felt so deadly tired that she felt she couldn't go on if she didn't lay down for a few minutes.

When she woke up again Clara opened her eyes into darkness and cold fear gripped her. She had fallen asleep anyway and she had slept though the whole day despite it all and now it was too late to leave. Even the short steps down her stairs felt like a too long walk when she thought of the man perhaps being there. But she wasn't safe where she was either, she was all alone and he had already proven that he could both come and leave her home at will. She sat up in bed, switching on the small lamp on her bedside table. The small pool of light felt comforting at first, but the darkness seemed even darker now, pressing against the small bauble of light she sat in. She had to turn on all the lights; perhaps it would feel a bit better then. She would phone a friend to come and fetch her and then she would wait close to the door with her back to the wall until someone came. It wasn't a good plan, but it was the only plan Clara could think of.

When she entered her living room and was about to turn on the lights that she suddenly knew that it was too late. The room was silent around her, nothing stirred, but still she knew that she wasn't alone. She knew with complete certainty that he was there waiting for her. Clara paused, despite knowing he was there, she didn't want the light to conform it. As long as she couldn't see, then perhaps she was only disillusioned, but then she wouldn't see when he came for her. It was better to see.

He was there. He was standing across the room, but his eyes where on her face as if he had been able to see her all along. He stood very still and Clara was suddenly aware how unnatural that was. She had never really thought about it before, but now she realized that this was a part of what had unnerved her so in his company. There ought to be tiny movements, as muscle that ticked, a little fidgeting with hands and feet, but there was nothing. Only the eyes were alive in the impassive face and just as she had known that had had been there before she saw him, Clara knew with a blinding certainty that he was exactly what she had conjured up. Not an insane but living human being, but something else entirely. She fumbled against the door post, found it and leaned against in an effort to hide how her body had started to shake as soon as she saw him. In a last effort to prove to herself that it was she who was crazy, not that her idea that was true, she blurted out;

"Are you Dracula?"

A faint smile passed over his lips before he answered her. "Yes. Yes Clara, I am."


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: The last chapter- it was long coming, I know. I must confess that I have had separation anxieties here. I like Clara and I'm sorry to see her go. I hope you will enjoy it!_

It was the truth, Clara knew that. This was not a mad man, nor was it a joke, but still she couldn't stop herself. "You are not real, you cannot be."

The smile that had flickered so briefly before, returned to his face, but it didn't make his countenance kinder and it only fuelled Clara's fear. "Oh I was real long before there ever was a novel or some silly movies. They have borrowed my name for a figment of imagination. I have found it a useful distraction from unwanted attention, though,"

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to come with me." He took a step closer to her and Clara shrank back involuntary. "I can give you everything you ever wanted. I can give you your heart's desire and I want you to invite me to make you mine."

He moved so quickly that his movements were hardly noticeable, but suddenly he stood just in front of her, much too close. He lifted his hand and she pressed herself harder into the wall to try to evade his touch, but he only outlined the contours of her face with a finger in the air.

"So, what is it that you want? Eternal youth, perhaps? You are so beautiful, so young. When I lived I would have taken you to my bed and hoped that you would bring me strong sons. I can gift you with loveliness that never ends. Your eyes will never lose their brilliance; your skin will remain as pure as it is today. No decay, no loss of beauty. Ever. Does that tempt you Clara?

Clara shuddered. "No. I- I don't care that I will grow old one day. That is what everyone does."

"Not everyone" He smiled his terrible smile again. "But you would have disappointed me if that had been enough. I think I can give you a better offer."

He paused, as if he had to think through what he could give her. "I can open every library, every archive for you. You can travel the world wherever you want, the locked and forgotten rooms will be opened for you. And you will be able to spend years, if you want, years in one single library as you look for what you want to find. Eternal knowledge and the keys to unlock those mysteries. That is what you want, is it not, Clara? I know that is true and that is what I want from you. In my youth I would only have seen your beauty, because that was all I thought women could possess. I have learned since and every test I put you through, you shined in. I want your brilliance and hunger for knowledge. I want you to search for things that have eluded me. You will enjoy that, I am sure. If you say that this does not tempt you- then you are lying."

He was right, it did tempt her. She had wanted to be a scholar, but there had not been enough money, to become a librarian had been the next best thing. It scared Clara that he knew better what she secretly longed for, when those who loved her did not.

"Yes, yes, it does tempt me. I love working in the library, but that is not everything I want. But there are so many other things I want from my life. Like love…"

"Love! What is love but a thinly veiled excuse for the need to possess? I have seen your young man and all he want is to own you, but not for what you are but for what he would like you to be. I see you and what you can become and you still think what he can offer you are better?"

Clara started to feel drowsy, his low voice seemed to wrap around her thoughts and making it difficult to think. There was more in life, of course there were, but she couldn't quite catch them and make them into words. It would be so easy to say yes, and for every minute of listening to him, it felt easier still. Clara shook her head to try to clear it and the movement made the thin chain around her neck tug at her skin.. Somehow that helped to clear her thoughts. If her words failed her, perhaps she could find help elsewhere. Her hands shock when she raised the small cross. It seemed so tiny but Dracula recoiled and fell silent and Clara stood a little straighter.

"No, I don't want what you offer. Go away!"

However, the respite the cross gave her was not to help her for long. Though Dracula clearly was repulsed by the cross, he regained his composure very quickly and snarled at her. "A very feeble attempt. Did you really think that could ward me off long enough?"

His hand shot out much too quickly, grabbing the chain as far away from the cross as possible. Clara could feel a burning pain when the chain snapped and it flew away over the room, bearing the cross with it. It tinkled faintly and then it was gone into the darkness, leaving her completely unprotected. He shook his hand as if even the brief moment he held the chain had pained him, but then his hand closed around her arm, without effort lifting her up so she was forced to stand on her toes. The other hand wound itself into her hair, forcing her head toward the side and back, exposing her neck. He leaned closer and the faint but awful smell Clara had felt before, crept into her nostrils. He was so close that she ought to have felt hot breath on her skin, but of course there was no breath, even when he spoke so close to her that his lips almost touched her skin.

"Did you think that I would leave you alone if you deny me? Oh no, I will take you, with or without your consent, but then I would be forced to punish you. You cannot imagine how much one can suffer when one can no longer die. Starvation that goes on forever, slowly driving you mad. Or take that cross you had. What do you think it would make to your lovely skin if it was pressed against it, over and over again."

His voice grew slower, thicker and Clara realized something. "And you would really like doing those things to me."

"Like? Clara, I would relish in doing those things to you. It would please me immensely to see you suffer."

He let go of her and Clara slowly slid to the floor. All strength had left her, she could feel tears well up in her eyes and fall, brought by exhaustion and fear than anything else.

"But I don't want to . I need you to serve me willingly, not as a broken slave." Dracula extended his hand toward her and his voice softened. "Take my hand and there is nothing to be afraid of. I am a fair master- obey me and you will have everything you want. I may punish disobedience harshly, but your loyalty will keep you safe."

Clara blinked away the tears and swallowed the sobs. If it had been a movie, then this was the moment where the door would burst open and her saviors would come to vanquish the monster, but this was real, this was her life and there was no hope, there was only a choice of how she was to meet her destiny. She wanted so badly to be brave and defy him, no matter the cost, but she couldn't. Slowly she stretched her hand toward him and he took it in his. His hand was smooth and cool and he pulled her up into his arms. Her legs still didn't obey her, but it didn't matter, he held her as easily as if she had weighed nothing.

"Don't be afraid, Clara. When you wake up again, you will have no doubts and no fear."

When his face changed, truly revealing the monster within, Clara closed her eyes. She felt like she was falling again and when she could feel his lips against her neck, her hands clenched against the fabric of his coat in a last effort to regain her balance, but her head spun faster and Clara fell and knew nothing more.

THE END


End file.
